The Prodigal Knight and the Emperor
by Cailus Griffin
Summary: Four years. That's how long it's been for Revan, deep undercover within the Infinite Sith Empire, far from the Republic, Bastila and everybody else. Now his plans have reached fruition, placing him in prime position to face the Emperor himself. But the Emperor knows things...impossible things...


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Wars, Knights of the Old Republic, or anything even vaguely related. Ya know, in case it wasn't obvious.

**Author's Note:** To be absolutely clear, this is _not_ SWTOR. The Emperor in this little story is not the same one in the game. The best way to read this is to imagine that SWTOR and the book "Revan" never existed, and this is an entirely different version of what happened following KoTOR2. And in my defence, I did conceive of this in something like 2006. You can imagine how amused I was when Bioware's sequel to KoTOR2 turned out to be so similar to my own fantasy. Anywho, with that said…enjoy.

* * *

The silence in the throne room was total. Nothing stirred, be it insect or machine. The two red-armoured guards at the entrance were well trained, and even their heartbeats were muffled. Such silence suited the Emperor of the Infinite Sith Empire; it focused him in a way that nothing else could. Often his preference was to simply sit upon his throne for hours on end, drinking in the silence and submerging himself with the Force. Indeed, it was a private bit of irony for the Emperor that his meditation was so similar to the Jedi rituals of old.

It was halfway through one of these meditations that the intrusion occurred. Without warning the small lift doors opposite the throne opened. No sound came, but the subtle shift in temperature was noticeable enough. From the lift strode a man of average height, with the long flowing robes typical of a Sith Lord. The guards paid the intruder no heed; they sensed his Force power, and knew he was beyond their purview.

For his part, the man did not slow, nor accelerate. He kept up his steady walk towards the throne, boots clicking loudly on the metal floor. It took a few moments for the Emperor to lift himself back onto the mortal plane, but when he did, he regarded the intruder with a curious expression.

"Bold," the Emperor said softly. The intruder stopped in his tracks. "Most bold, young one, to enter my domain uninvited. I do not recognise you immediately…but I know of you. Lord Naver. Promising. Powerful. Manipulative. And if this encounter is any sign, almost suicidally ambitious…"

The intruder didn't move a muscle, simply remaining still, his hands perfectly still by his sides. "You must have quite a presentation prepared, my Lord. Continue." The Emperor leaned back in his throne in contentment, his blue-gray skin matching the furniture perfectly.

The intruder hesitated for a second, before raising his hood. Naver was indeed young, no older than forty. His hair was short and tightly cropped, with only a faint goatee decorating his chin. The eyes said it all, though. They burned a fiery green.

"I've come" Naver said firmly, "to reclaim my name. A name…a name I'd almost forgotten, actually. A name I did forgot once. A name I will never forget again." His eyes narrowed. "I am not a Sith Lord, your Highness. I am the Jedi Knight Revan. And I'm here to kill you."

The Emperor froze in response. He looked Revan up and down sharply in open disbelief, before raising his hand to his chin. "My…I am impressed. Indeed…oh my, I am very impressed. Honoured, even. My Lord Revan…" With inappropriate grace given his apparent fraility the Emperor stood up, and brought his hands together. "I offer you my congratulations, Lord Revan. Only now do I see…the duel at Ter IX? That starfighter squadron in Moxar…oh, and what you did to Chancellor Urban. And your victory over Lord Malevolent! All planned, all perfectly executed, just so you could get to this moment. I am honoured, Revan. Truly. I studied your strategies, but it is quite something else to see them done in real time." The Emperor finished with a short bow, without even the faintest trace of sarcasm.

Revan raised an eyebrow. "You…studied the strategies of a regional governor? When you have tens of thousands of them?"

"Hardly," the Emperor replied derisively. "I studied the strategies of the Dark Lord of Sith. The Prodigal Knight. The Revanchist. The man who once and for all defeated the Mandalorians. Would be interested in knowing, my Lord, that in all the millennia following Malachor V, they never again rebuilt into a galactic power? They survived, certainly, but only on a small scale. An extraordinary victory. To not just defeat a civilisation, but to _break _them."

Revan inclined his head marginally at the praise. "You see the future."

"I see the past," the Emperor said cryptically. "I used you as a template during my apprenticeship…most useful. The greatest of my victories was based partly on Malachor, in fact. Hundreds of Jedi dying in once, in such splendid synchronicity, and thousands more turning to the Dark Side. Exquisite. If it were not for a single freak Jedi, your favourite general…why, the Republic may not have survived."

It took Revan a few moments to think back all the way to Malachor; it felt like (and indeed, it was) a lifetime ago. When he remembered, his expression changed for the first time, eyes widening. "Caila," he muttered. Sidious regarded him with a hungry curiosity. "Caila…she was the only one who didn't turn or die at Malachor. But…she was a shell. The walking dead. What-"

"Enough," Sidious said finally, his voice gaining deep authority. With lingering slowness he pulled an obsidian hilt out of his sleeve, fingering it lovingly. "It is time we dispense with frivolity, my lord Revan. Time to move a more…pure…form of discussion. I admit to some curiosity. While I studied your strategies, my Master studied your lightsaber style. Directly, in fact, from an old Jedi holocron. Shall we begin…?"

In an instant, without any warning or hesitation, the Emperor unleashed himself upon Revan; one moment he was twenty meters away, the next they were toe to toe. Sith red crashed upon Jedi green with terrifying speed, then again, then again. There was no possibility of counterattack, no evasion, no options for Revan save pure defence, blocking each and every strike by the Emperor, who attacked with wild untamed passion. The contrast was glaring; Revan was the consummate swordsman, light on his feet, blade in one hand, moving more like a dancer than a warrior. The Emperor, on the other hand, was more beast than man, attacking from every conceivable angle, even jumping directly over Revan to slash at him. The sound of the two blades echoed brutally around the throne room; the two red guards took the opportunity to leave.

A minute into the duel and it seemed almost over. Revan simply couldn't keep up his defence; the Emperor was close to solving his defensive riddle. As wild as the attacks were, there was a fundamental level of skill that went beyond Revan's, beyond anything he could even conceive. It was a humbling revelation. He'd spent thirty years mastering Makahasi, the second Form of lightsaber combat. The Emperor, it seemed, had not only mastered Makahasi, but all six of the other Forms, and even some techniques that Revan had never seen before.

With increasing desperation, the besieged Jedi changed tactics; he was outmatched, but he had his own skills. First and foremost was his mind. The Emperor claimed to know him, claimed impossible things…but if that was the case, then he wouldn't be ready for _this_.

In the midst of the Emperor's barrage Revan purposefully left himself open to a strike from above, and predictably the Sith leapt high, cackling as he prepared his killing blow. Just as the red blade came close Revan unleashed his surprise with a precise tap of telekinesis; a second lightsaber blade, this one yellow, erupted from his wrist to block the attack. The Emperor hesitated for the tiniest fraction of a second in mid-air, and paid the price as Revan counterattacked with both blades in a blistering flurry, finishing with a crushing Force-strengthened kick that sent the Emperor flying into the far wall, hard. Both men paused for a moment, breathing heavily. The Emperor's prior calm and arrogance was gone; now there was only pure rage.

Seeing that Revan wasn't advancing, the Emperor retook the initiative, releasing a blast of brilliant blue lightning at the Jedi, who calmly absorbed it with his lightsabers. Without pause the Emperor then began throwing the various objects in the room at Revan through the Force, from floor panels to railings to the Imperial throne itself. He even ripped consoles from their sockets, throwing their huge weight at the Jedi. None of it mattered. Revan was a master. He sidestepped, parried and ducked with impossible grace. As each moment passed, he seemed to be become calmer and calmer; with each strike his opponent grew more and more enraged.

Unlike the lightsaber assault, the Emperor's telekinetic assault was inconsistent, and this time Revan retaliated with everything in his arsenal, throwing things straight back at the Emperor. Lightning erupted from both combatants mercilessly, tearing huge scars into the walls, and a maelstrom of sheer Force energy began swirling around them. In the city outside, millions of sentients stopped in their daily business to witness the immense storm surrounding the Imperial Palace.

For Revan, such a fight was unsustainable; he was tiring, but Emperor seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. Gritting his teeth and calling upon the Force more heavily than ever before, Revan once again ignited his emerald lightsaber. Shoulder first he launched himself at the Emperor with an almighty Force leap, cutting through the storm like a knife through paper, the blade aimed directly at the old man's heart…

…but it wasn't enough. At the very last second the Emperor blocked the attack, and their blades locked together. Simultaneously, sensing the duel was coming to its final strike, both Jedi and Sith pulled their other hands back and thrust their palms forward. Invisible, almighty waves of telekinesis clashed in that tiny space between them, building to an inevitable climax.

In that moment, the minds of the two warriors could not have been more different. For all his brilliance, his experience, his infinite patience, the Emperor's mind was filled only with murderous rage, his every inch of will focused on the kill. Revan, however, was still calm as a summer's day, his mind mulling his options.

In his current state-that of a Jedi-Revan couldn't win. He saw that now. The Emperor was simply too strong. It was entirely possible that the Emperor had reached the apex of Force power, become a manifestation of the Dark Side itself…and if that was so, _nothing_ could beat him. The Light Side of the Force was not enough. To have a chance, to have even the most remote possibility of winning, Revan would have to do something his old Masters would never have condoned. He would have to open to himself to the Darkness and the Light simultaneously, to allow both sides of the Force to flow through him. The Dark Side called like a former lover, tempting him, begging him to take it…

…but no. In that moment, for the first time in three years, Revan felt Bastila through their Force bond. Her grace, her beauty, her strength, her unending and unyielding compassion. It was no coincidence. The Force did not want him to fall again.

Resolute, Revan redoubled his focus, forcing ever more power through his palm at the Emperor…every iota of his will, focused with the training of the Jedi. An aura of golden light glowed there, battling with the aura of impenetrable darkness coming from the Emperor's. Eventually, finally, the balance broke.

The resultant explosion was huge. The entire top half of the Imperial Palace blew up around them, showering the surrounding city with debris, and the last flickers of lightning arced away. As the dust settled, the result was clear. Revan was floating in mid-air, hands grasping at his throat helplessly, his lightsabers blown away by the explosion. The Emperor stood below him, one hand held out, eyes wide in glee. After a moment the victorious Sith let out a bellow, cackling with relish into the open sky. Still cackling he unleashed Force lightning into Revan, torturing the defeated Jedi mercilessly.

When this was done, he pulled Revan towards him, close enough to whisper, "Now, my Lord Revan…you are _mine_."


End file.
